Gary Strachan – "Write" Said Fred
Whimsical observations from deep within an erratic mind
It’s 16th December and the festive feel in chez Strachan is slowly intensifying. And, to be honest, how can GJ Strachan not be flushed with yuletide esprit when greeted by the word ‘Bollocks’ from behind window 16 of a Tourettes advent calendar bequeathed by son Jonny? Augmenting yuletide spirit further, the unmistakable redolence of spilled... Continue Reading →
At reveille this morning I lay in bed mulling over what the upcoming festive season on Planet COVID would bequeath. Amongst these notions, GJ Strachan attempted to recall how Christmas advents played out prior to my 2019 health issues, marriage split and the coronavirus pandemic. This act of recollection causing me to look back as... Continue Reading →
Following yesterday's efforts by her attention-seeking elder son, Mrs Strachan senior's Christmas tree now stands imposingly in the front room bay window of her West Yorkshire abode. The artificial evergreen bringing a much needed hint of festive cheer and chromatic hue to the octogenarian's lounge. Reading my previous sentence, some may suggest after penning artificial there's... Continue Reading →
As December grasps the calendar baton from November, whose watch matched the previous eight months starkness on Planet COVID, apparently snow is forecast in West Yorkshire for the coming days. If this was Canada, Amazon delivery vans would be changing to snow tyres, gritters/ploughs would be working around the clock and elk would be building... Continue Reading →
With my estranged wife returning back to Leeds from County Durham today, I'm residing back at my mums residence on the Wakefield borders. An event which's proved a catalyst to melancholy on my part. Despite always endeavouring to take a positive from any existential episode, since yesterday's re-departure of my marital home I remain bereft... Continue Reading →
This afternoon, I plan to cook Sunday dinner for my mum. The traditional roast beef serving to be dished up with roast potatoes, Yorkshire puddings, cauliflower, broccoli and sprouts. After this gorging on meat and vegetable West Yorkshire will be issued with a red weather alert. This notice warning of horrific winds ahead, particularly in... Continue Reading →
I've been undertaking a little online Christmas shopping this morning. For the uninitiated a little online shopping is similar to big online shop, just with fewer purchases. I'm uncertain of the gift volume parameters for differentiating if retail procurements are little or big in size. The nearest guidance from my normally erudite adult son Jonny... Continue Reading →
Late singer/songwriter Michael Jackson once taught us "Don't blame it on the sunshine. Don't blame it on moonlight. Don't blame it on the good times. Blame it on the boogie." As much as I enjoy listening to his music, I'd beg to differ with old Jacko on his accusatory advocacy. After all, I'd venture the... Continue Reading →
As I meander down today's literary path, my mind's in a poetic place. The catalyst to these notions yours truly's inability to shake the refrain The Way We Were from my neurological corridors. The Alan Peterson/Marilyn Peterson/Marvin Hamlisch Academy Award winning collaboration currently repeat playing in my cranial jukebox. The tune, mooted as resurrecting Barbra... Continue Reading →